


Iggy Milkovich & Carl - Halloween BFF

by jmacdakid



Series: IGGY MILKOVICH: SOUTH-SIDE ADVENTURES [4]
Category: Shameless - Fandom
Genre: Chewbacca - Freeform, Halloween, Han Solo - Freeform, Other, Star Wars - Freeform, Wookie - Freeform, costume contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:29:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2541092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmacdakid/pseuds/jmacdakid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our dashing Milkovich is propositioned with a scam, concocted by the neighborhood 'Good Son' & they team up for the first time to learn about life, free stuff & not being a lil'bitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iggy Milkovich & Carl - Halloween BFF

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! Enjoy!

TUESDAY. 10:21AM. CHICAGO, IL.

Iggy Milkovich awoke, on his own accord, to a pitch black room. *Where the fuck am I?* he thought, as he drunkenly searched his immediate surroundings. *Who the fuck is this?* Iggy strained for the blinds, creeping in enough daybreak to answer his question. A beautiful blonde, lay topless and asleep. The night slowly crept back to him, as he found his jeans, boots and vest. As he quietly unlocked the other window & raised it, he stepped forward, right onto the tail of a black cat. The feline screeches in fury & Iggy freezes, somehow thinking that if he doesn't move, he won't be seen or heard. All while completely forgetting the window he had just left ajar basked him in a heavenly amber of morning sunshine. "Are you sneaking out of my window, Iggy?" asked the naked girl, now sitting wide awake in the bed. Iggy doesn't move. He has to pee. "Fuck you, Iggy Milkovich!" she snaps, throwing a half bottle of Fireball whiskey at him. Iggy jumps into place, catches the whiskey & flicks her off. "You did that 6 times already, ...." he starts, but has no idea. "It's Christine, you fucking piece of shit! Get the fuck outta here!" she expels. "Can do, Six; loved your Blossom." as he slips out the window. He pops a square & lights it, and his eyes adjust to the morning. "My name is Christine, not Six, you deadbeat! And I'm Twenty-Four!" she screams from her window. Then, like Joey Lawrence, shaking his head, as she didn't get his 90s joke, "WHO-A!" he smirked back at her, as she fumed.

Another day was alive & the crisp autumn air invigorated the young Milkovich. He was smiling & could care less. Moments like these, always called for Menthols. Iggy quickly dipped into the 7-11 & asked the attendant for a pack of Newports, while he refilled his empty whiskey bottle with Mug RootBeer. Just then, there was a small presence opposite the Beverage Island, staring at him, fixing a cup of coffee. Iggy thought Carl Gallagher looked 5 years older since last he saw him, just in the face. Carl looked worn out. "Fuck you want?" Iggy asked, moderately polite. "I got an idea. Meet me out front." said Carl, as he pocketed 3 protein bars & leaving the mess of coffee he had just made. "Ey!" Iggy barked, and Carl turned around, "Cop me those tan crumble donuts, 'fore you head out." Iggy somewhat asked. Carl gave a slight grin & nodded. Iggy snagged a few bananas into his vest, pocketed some SlimJims & approached the counter. "Just the cigarettes, sir?" asked the attendant, as he placed the pack on the counter. "Yea & a couple cigarillos & that grape wrap, the one with 3 in it." Iggy nicely requests. The attendant turns to fill the order, as Iggy pockets the cigarettes from the counter. Upon the attendants return, he begins scanning the items. "$4.39 is your total." "And the Menthols?" Iggy asks. "Oh, of course!" says the guy, as he searches around the counter for the pack he'd missed. "Did I bring the pack down already?" he asks Iggy. "Guy, you're burning fucking daylight here." Iggy states, throwing down a 5. "Keep the change, bro." Today's gonna be great.

Carl is on him, as soon as Iggy rounds the pay phone outside. "Costume Contest. My school. 3 days from now. I got an ide--" "--zip it, Mini-Me; eat this banana & gimme my donuts." Iggy interjects, as he sits down onto the parking slab. Carl pulls his urgency back & complies, joining him. "Fuckin love these donuts, amd oo shood ee im shoowl." says Iggy, mouth full of delight. "My dad called me out sick, so I could help him scam Wing's Laundromat, but I tranq'd him; he'll be out well into the night. I always liked Ms. Wing; she always handed out funny Asian candies." replied Carl. Iggy swigs some pop-whiskey & starts in on a SlimJim, "That's precious, psycho; now, fuck you want?" "I need your help to win this Costume Contest in 3 days. At my school." states Carl. Iggy stares at him blankly for a beat, then, "Ok, I'm done." and rises to leave. "Fuck you, man! Just listen - I'm clockin $500 here, plus the side dishes. Hear me out!" Carl pushes, following Iggy up the street. "We go as a duo. I dress up way bigger than I am, to have room for loot. Then we win the contest, collect the prize money & skip out with a score." "Dick score. 5 Hundo? Not worth my time." Iggy states. "Fuck! Fine. The school has been collecting fundraiser cash since school started. It chills in a giant hamster ball, in the gym, hanging from the rafters. There's almost 3 Grand in there. Some deal with D.A.R.E. to pull donations from city councilmen." Carl reveals. Iggy slows his pace & lights another square. He hands it to Carl, and lights himself a second. "Menthols are nasty." spews Carl. "Is Free fuckin nasty? Shut up." snaps Iggy, "Lemme think."

35 minutes later.

"What are our costumes?" asks Iggy. "Dude, the fuck?! What've you been thinking about for the last half hour??!" ignites Carl. "Yo, preejac, chill the fuck out or I will put you the fuck out." Iggy threatens, "I'm still trying to enjoy my great day. Answer the goddamn question, runt." Carl stews for a moment, then a hipster, wearing a Stormtrooper T-shirt passes by them & he's got it. "Star Wars. You be Han Solo & I will be Chewie!" exclaims Carl. Iggy smirks. "Let's hear it." And Carl roars his inner Wookie with prominence. "That'll do, pig; that'll do." smiles Iggy. "Great. Figure out our costumes & get at me. I'm in the room that doesn't smell gay." Carl jumps after him, "Me?! Our costumes?? Nah, I'll do mine; you do yours. Fair." Iggy pushes Carl off, "Fuck Fair & fuck you. You came to me. Not your brothers. Or your scam dad. Y'all Gallags only come at us when you need guns, muscle or dope." Carl stands silent. "Exactly. And that right there is why YOU will be doing OUR costumes for your High School Horse Shit." Iggy slams & continues on. Carl then runs up behind & kicks in the back of Iggy's left leg, in anger. Almost like gear work, Iggy pulls around, grabbing Carl & pulling him into his flipped switchblade, until the knife swoops around & drops to the base of Carl's right ear. "I like you, Gallagher, you got fire. If you ever attack me again, tho, I will refuse to hesitate breaking your teenage-wasteland face in." Carl holds still, "I do the costumes. 60/40 split." he offers. Iggy releases Carl & retracts his weapon, "Like I said, y'all know where we at." Carl watches him leave with new determination. 

The next morning, Mandy is blasting Def Leopard in the kitchen, while Mickey is passed out in the living room with the TV on, from the previous night. Iggy slips behind his sister, as she makes hash browns. Iggy preps a bowl of Lucky Charms, but he finds Mandy has already used up the milk. *Fuck. No matter.* he thinks & casually adds vodka to his cereal & heads out the side door to sit on the stoop. There waits Carl, patiently. "My sister says your family is the missing-link." says Carl, sly. "I'm sure she misses my link, little man. Think she'd miss you if I sent her your thumb?" Iggy throws away, as he slurps the last of his General Mills Popov. "I got your costume. You got a black vest to wear over it?" asks Carl. "Think I could rummage one up." Iggy laughs. "Debs printed this pic, so you can do your hair like Harrison Ford. Meet me on Friday in the HS parking lot." and Carl starts off. "My pubes are for sale for your costume, bud." jokes Iggy. Carl smiles, flips Iggy his finger, and continues off. 

Friday Night.

Iggy Milkovich had done work to his Camaro. Paint job: Matte Black with Blood Red accents. Black rims, 3 matching. His ride was mean & Iggy loved how he felt driving it. Like he was the fucking Punisher. He smiled, clocking that Han Solo is just a more charming version of the outlaw. He pulls back into the parking lot of the High School & finds a clever spot to park. As he walks into the common lot, a loud primal scream from behind him makes him unholster his "blaster" & almost start, well, "blasting" - A massive furball with a giant black utility belt strewn over one shoulder stares down at Iggy Milkovich. Carl stands about 6'10" & smiles, holding a Galaxy, loaded with a [Wookie Soundbar App]. "Swear to Christ, smalls! You know I'm just going to take all the money & leave you with some fucking FunSize Twix, right?!" Iggy is irritated; that Wookie howl was loud. "Shut up, Ignacio. I got all sorts-a-Star Wars sounds on this Samsung I jacked at Navy Pier last week; might become useful?" Carl quickly retorts. Iggy stares blank. "Thanks for the foreshadow, Car; God, I hate sidekicks." Iggy steam dries. "Whatever, you don't have to be a sidekick if you don't want. What do you think of this costume, tho?! Check it." Carl starts to show off a rather ingenious Chewbacca, made by old shag carpets & a caged stilt stand. Then Carl gets especially proud, "Now, here's the chests. One on each side, with open compartments for whatever else we can snatch." Iggy is impressed & holsters his Glock19 (with bright orange Hunter's Tape over the barrel sight, crudely) into his shoulder strap. "Looks good, kid. I want us in/out in 20min. Understood?" Iggy stares bullets into Carl. "Fine, Mr. No-Fuckin-Fun. Let's get that paper. Here's a Bluetooth ear piece, so we can stay in contact, without me trying to bend over." Carl hands Iggy the device. "We go in & find our targets, and then we figure the Giant Ball of Ca$h." Iggy strategizes & they head in.

As they enter the gymnasium, Iggy is reminded why Matthew McConaughey likes high school girls, then quickly re-focuses himself on the task at hand. Carl motions him to where they can scope the giant plastic container, suspended above the stage. "Can you hear me?" asks Carl. "Yea." Iggy replies. "Can you hear me now?" Says Carl. Iggy rolls his eyes, "I hate you." "Ha, join the club, chump! I got eyes on some pearls, but look up there - see how it's lined?" Carl shows how the Money Ball is only being held by a single pulley. "That's easy; we need an escape." says Iggy, "How much do you care about this place, Carly Rae Gallagher?" "Arson?" hopes Carl. "Read my mind, squirt." Iggy smiles. Then, the PA announces that the Duo-Costume Contest was about to begin. Carl & Iggy make their way to the front. As Carl awkwardly makes his way to the stage, he notices Iggy has left his side & is nowhere to be seen. "Han?! Fuck you at? Get up here, it's about to start." Carl urges into his mouthpiece. As the Announcer addresses the crowd, Carl begins to feel nervous. Where was Iggy? Then, suddenly, the entire gymnasium goes black. Silence for a second. Carl is stupefied. Everyone begins to freak out & voices begin echoing their discomfort in the darkness. 5min pass, as Carl implores Iggy from his Bluetooth, "Dude, is that you? The lights? Don't remember that part of the plan. I'm at the stage; come find me." Carl adjusts the volume & tries again, but this time he can hear his own echo, faint, but close. Carl reaches into the middle pouch on his belt & finds Iggy's earpiece. Damnit. 

Suddenly, the Fire Alarm blazes to life & the gymnasium is chaotically illuminated by red flashes of danger. Everyone files for the emergency exits, and as Carl slouches outside, he is grabbed by a security officer, with the D.A.R.E rep. "Climb outta there, Gallagher. You must think you're so clever, you punk kid!" Slams the officer. Carl opens the chest of Chewbacca and jumps out, dumbfounded. "I didn't fuckin do anything, what?!" he scowls. "Search that monstrosity! We got a hot tip that you were planning to steal the donations tonight & then the lights went out & the money disappeared just like our tip said you'd do. Jig's done, son. You fucked up." the officer delivers. Carl is steaming, as the officer retrieves his hot-smartphone. "Sir, there's no money in here at all, sir." sheepishly states the rep. "What?! But the donations are gone; it has to be in there!" as the officer dives into Carl's makeshift costume. "Where is it Gallagher?! Only thing in here is a cherry BlowPop!" screams the officer. "No idea, guy. But I guess now there's 2 suckers in there." Carl smirks, as the Galaxy app blasts the Cantina Song.

Carl was released, as he hadn't stolen anything, but his school had him on probation for "plotting to do criminal activity." Whatever that meant. He slowly walked toward his home, deciding to Trick-or-Treat a little. "Hi. Can I have some free candy?" uttered Carl, upon a door opening. "Oh, look John! He's a vagabond for Halloween! So adorable, here - take 2 helpings!" Carl was exhausted & as he rounded the corner towards his house, he saw Iggy Milkovich smoking a cigarette outside his Camaro. "You have fun at school, sport?" smiled Iggy. Carl rushed him, angry "What the fuck, you shit hole?!" as he swung at Iggy's hip. Iggy parried his blow & pulled Carl off his feet by his collar, "What the fuck did I tell you, you oops-abortion!" Carl hung there, deflated. He didn't care anymore, he just stared at Iggy, defeated. Iggy eased up & placed Carl's sneakers back on the pavement. "You tipped them off about me to create a diversion, I understand that. Rather well thought out, except - you coulda told me!" Carl points. "Shut up." Iggy swigs his flask, then hands it to Carl. Carl takes it & finishes it. Tequila, wow. "Now you're gettin it, Gallagher. Life is about giving & taking; thing is, nobody wants to give. That makes the 'taking' crucial. You know, to balance out shit." Iggy smiles. "Where's all the money?" stares Carl. "Wouldn't you like to know. You'll get your 40cut; gotta sit on it for a minute." Iggy flicks his square clean. "Fuck that! I get 60! That was the deal, my idea, my set up, my costumes & my bullshit night!" interjects Carl. "Slow your role, Boy Blunder. You said '60/40' - that was it, no specifications. I choose my own profit adventure & I chose 60, if you're going to be stupid. You want 40 or ZER0?" Iggy drills. Carl takes a moment to unwrap an Almond Joy from his pocket, & as he bites into that coconut joy, he smiles. He liked Iggy Milkovich. And he was right. Specificity. Good lesson. "Ok, I will take my 40. Then I will kill you." Says Carl with settlement. "Atta kid - ha, here, you can have the thinnest of the 3!" as Iggy tosses a billfold to Carl. "Damn, nice! $45, 2 credit cards & a condom!" exclaims Carl. "The cards are useless; they're old ones I've stolen & have been cancelled already. You didn't think I was gonna give you more than 45 for free?" Iggy grins & snatches a Snickers from Carl's hand. "Tell your sister 'Free Milkovich Treats' just down the Milkovich street!" as he dips back into his car & smiles to Carl. "You got potential, Padawan." says Iggy from in front of the wheel. "Don't you mean, Apprentice, Darth Douchebag?" eggs Carl. Iggy grins at this prodigy, "That'll do pig; that'll do. Also, there's 17 holes poked into that condom, heads up!" & drives into the night. Carl laughs & finishes his candy bar.

 

DAT'S IT, TRICK!  
SHIT'S DONE.  
OVER.

HAVE A HAPPY HOLLOWEEN

**Author's Note:**

> Loved teaming them up! More 'Dynamic-Duo' for the future!


End file.
